


Witchcraft and Curses

by CookieDoughMe



Category: Haven (TV), Witches of East End (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season Two (ish) Haven, Wendy Beauchamp POV, because we all know Duke is basically part-cat, minor spoilers for Witches of East End, pre-series Witches of East End, so who better to pair him with than a witch who is actually part-cat?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 14:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20490485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieDoughMe/pseuds/CookieDoughMe
Summary: This is currently the story of Wendy arriving in Haven and making the acquaintance of a certain bar owner. I don't exactly know what happens next, but I would like to write more for it if I can.If you've seen one show and not the other, I think this will still make a decent amount of sense; they have a lot of similarities to each other in a way. Wendy is a witch with a curse, and Haven's Troubles are curses that often look like magic. Both are set in small towns with paranormal happenings that are kept varying degrees of secret. Both have storylines stretching back through previous generations too, and estranged relatives in another world though those aspects don't really come into play here. If you're looking for a visual for either character,this probably isn't a bad start.Minor spoilers for Witches of East End.





	Witchcraft and Curses

**Author's Note:**

> This is really all just about the fact that it occurred to me that Wendy Beauchamp and Duke Crocker would get along really well. I don't know Witches of East End as well as I know Haven so I hope there isn't anything here that's too wildly out of character, but I think it works.
> 
> In terms of timelines this is pre-series for Witches of East End and a season two kind of setting for Haven (though Duke already has his long hair, just because).

_ Haven, Maine _, the sign reads as I walk past it. I've been meaning to come here for … oh I don't know, maybe a hundred years or so. Every so often the stories that come out of this place just sound like, well like something from home. 

So when it got to the point where I had to leave New Orleans, I hitched a ride up the coast to come and see this place. That last driver didn't want to take me the final few miles into town, but I figure I can walk from here. It's a beautiful view along this coastal road, the waves crashing away down at the bottom of the cliff, a collection of little wooded islands in the distance, the blue sky overhead. 

That last driver was a great choice for one reason though. I told her I was interested in folklore and she told me all about the 'myths and legends' of Haven; people who can control the weather, draw magic pictures or bring the dead to life. It all sounds like witchcraft to me, but she told me they call them 'Troubles' and that they're supposed to come once a generation. I didn't ask her when they're next due to hit because I knew that part already; the last rush of stories was 27 years ago, so I reckon the next are about due.

For a while I'm enjoying the walk, the dramatic view and the fresh sea air. And then all of a sudden the quiet little road seems full of traffic. I step closer to the cliff edge to give the cars and trucks more room, but then some idiot tries to overtake where they really isn't room for it and spooks the other driver who swerves dramatically, heading directly towards me on a skid they can't control. There's a squeal of two sets of brakes but it's all going horribly wrong and there is nowhere for me to go, no room to move anywhere - except over the cliff. I don't really want to find out what it feels like to get run over, so I jump.

Cursing my luck that this couldn't have happened when the tide was in so I could just dive into the water, I look at the rocks below me and realise that any spell that might be useful in this situation would take too long to cast. I'm aware of a knot of people up the beach a little way, and it's quite possible the squeal of brakes has drawn their attention already, but there's nothing else for it: I shift into cat form just in time to land neatly on all four paws. 

Safe on the ground, I leap off the rocks onto the beach and take a moment to curl my claws into the damp sand, just because I can. Everything is different from this perspective: the colours of the sea and sky are more varied, the brush of the breeze feels different across my back, the salty smell of the ocean is much more intense. I pad over towards some of my scattered clothes and try to work out what will attract the least attention. As a cat there is the advantage that I can't be questioned and could just slip away. But that would effectively put an end to seeing this place and its so-called _ Troubles _ and I don't want to wait another 27 years. I shift back to human form; maybe any witnesses will just blame it on a trick of the light, I think hopefully as I start to pick up my clothes.

I've got as far as putting on the shirt that just about covers my modesty, when two of the people from down the beach run up. I look over there more closely and see police tape and a police car as well as a collection of other vehicles - a crime scene then. I look back to them. They've rushed over here expecting to find a body, and yet here I am, walking around. Or did they see the cat? They look more wary than anything; it's hard to tell.

One of them glares at me and rests his hand near the gun on his belt and I see the glint of a detective badge next to it. Not that he needs it really; everything about him screams law enforcement. Everywhere I've been, and even as almost everything else in the world changes with time, there is some kind of attitude that every single law enforcement professional I've ever met has in common. This guy has it in spades, but the one next to him doesn't. His attitude is something entirely different and much more interesting. There's something open and curious about him that says, _ Rules are for losers, _as though he's some kind of hippie. Or pirate.

If you had to describe what the two of them look like, a lot of what you'd say would be the same: both tall men, slim, pale skin, dark hair, but the thing is they actually don't look much alike. And even the differences you'd mention don't do justice to that; one has longer hair in a cute little ponytail, the other that regulation law-enforcement look; one has a delicate little goatee, the other a five o'clock shadow that's probably there any time of day, one has eyes a rich warm brown, the other's so blue they almost look like coloured contact lenses. And that's not even the half of it. They're dressed differently too (law enforcement vs hippie/pirate), but that's not really the point, that's just surface dressing. For a moment I struggle how to conceptualise it, then I realise, it's not just that their faces are different shapes; the difference is in how they _ move _. One is stiff, held tight from eyes to toes in the tension he obviously thinks he needs to get through the day (or to do his job?). The other is all lose limbs, smooth steps and interested eyes, looking forward to what the day has to offer. 

And it's not that I have anything against law enforcement as such, it's just … they can tend to be problematic when they see you do something you can't easily explain. Hippie- Pirates however … now that is _ just _ my style.

"Ma'am?" Law-Enforcement asks cautiously. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, thank you!" I reply as I finish doing up the buttons of my shirt and look around for the rest of my clothes. How can my skirt have landed so far from everything else?

"Can you tell me what happened here?" He's got an edge to his voice like he feels something bad might be about to happen, as though he thinks I'm dangerous. That's actually good; if I can convince him I'm reasonable maybe he'll leave me alone. I'm not exactly sure how to do that though. 

Let's start with the basics. "There was a car accident," I begin, looking up to the top of the cliff and spotting my skirt on a nearby rock in the process. "Or a near miss, at least." I guess the fact that nothing else followed me over the side implies they retained some level of control.

"You were in one of the cars?" Hippie-Pirate asks. His voice is soft, like he needs to talk me down from something. Perhaps they know about these Troubles and are wondering if this is about to escalate into something dangerous. 

"No," I say, pulling on my skirt. "I was walking along the road. A car swerved to get out of the way of another one and was coming right for me. I didn't really have any choice."

"So you jumped?" says Hippie-Pirate sounding slightly impressed I think. Or perhaps concerned for my sanity, but I nod an agreement anyway.

Law-Enforcement asks, "And then?" 

"Um," I pull one of my boots out from behind a rock and look around for the other.

"Ma'am? Have you heard of the Troubles?" Law-Enforcement asks cautiously, and I realise he thinks that I don't know what happened. They both seem to be expecting me to be either confused by, dismissive of, or alarmed at the question and when I reply with a casual, "Haven't you?" (balancing on one foot as I zip up a boot) they both seem to relax a little. 

"So, you're a shape shifter?" Hippie-Pirate asks.

"Just the cat," I admit. 

"You turn into a cat, that's your Trouble?" Law-Enforcement sounds surprised not that it's possible to turn into a cat but at how specific it is.

I can't tell them that it's actually magic from another world, I can't tell them about the curse bestowed on me as I arrived in this one, but this whole Troubles concept gives me an out at least. "Yeah," I say. "Sure. A Trouble. Let's go with that," walking along the sand awkwardly with one foot shod and the other bare. Neither of them are too interested in helping me find my stuff I notice, possibly each for different reasons.

"An _ actual _ cat?"

"Yeah pretty much." For all that he was quick to label this as one of their Troubles, he seems to be having an issue with the details.

"You always turn back?" he asks.

"So far!" I reply as though this is not a big deal. Because, you know, it isn't. I find my other boot at last and pull it on; fully dressed again. 

"And that's it?" He eyes me dubiously as though there must be more to it than that. Which, of course, there is. But somehow I get the feeling that the ability to cast spells might not fit into their whole 'Troubled' thing quite as neatly as shapeshifting. But equally I have to tell them something; he can tell I'm holding something back.

"I have a knack for reading tarot cards," I offer eventually, hopeful that this might be enough extra detail. The confusion on his face lifts and I see realisation hit, in a way I've seen on other faces before; _ She thinks she's a witch _. It's patronising and annoying, but it seems to get him off my back so at least here it has a purpose for once. I guess it explains my so-called Trouble for him.

"OK well just… be careful," he finishes vaguely. 

"You read palms too?" Hippie-Pirate asks.

I look him up and down and take a step closer. "Oh honey, I'll read any part of you you want me to," I reply, and I don't try to keep the purr out of my voice.

Law-Enforcement rolls his eyes and walks off back towards whatever crime scene it is down the way that brought them here in time to see me fall. "You know anywhere round here a girl can get a drink?" I ask the more friendly of the two.

His grin grows wider. "Yes," he says firmly. "Yes I do."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you're glad you did then any form of positive comment is always much appreciated :)


End file.
